My Darling Ex-Wife Is Unaware I’m Rich

Chapter 22: The Gathering Storm

Alfred tightened the laces on his sneakers, grabbed his gym bag, and took a deep breath. Morning workouts were a sacred ritual—a rare moment of peace away from the relentless pressures of the clan’s politics. He slung the bag over his shoulder, ready to leave, when the creak of his father’s door shattered the early morning stillness.

Alfred frowned. His father, Marcus, rarely rose before nine. A man of strict routine, Marcus treated dawn as his personal sanctuary for rest. Alfred hesitated, then set his bag down and stepped into the hall.

There stood Marcus, impeccably dressed in a gray suit and wearing the silver lapel pin that symbolized his high status within the clan.

“What’s going on?” Alfred asked, his voice tinged with concern.

Marcus looked at him with an expression that was both stoic and heavy with purpose. “Alphonse has called an emergency summit.”

“An emergency summit? At this hour? Why?” Alfred’s suspicion flared immediately.

Marcus shook his head. “He didn’t say. But all veteran members are required to attend.”

Alfred’s stomach twisted. Alphonse was ruthless, cunning, and unpredictable—a dangerous combination even in his advanced age. “Father, this doesn’t feel right. You can’t go,” he said, meeting his father’s gaze.

Marcus let out a low chuckle, but the sound lacked warmth. “Alfred, I’ve been a council member longer than you’ve been alive. I can handle myself. Besides, this is my duty.”

“Duty or not, something about this doesn’t sit well. Please, don’t go. Or at least let me come with you,” Alfred pleaded.

Marcus placed a steady hand on his son’s shoulder. “Your duty is with Maxwell. He’s the future of this clan and needs someone he can trust completely by his side. That’s where you belong.”

Alfred’s jaw tightened, frustration and fear warring within him. “If you insist on going, promise me you’ll take extra security. I’ll speak to the guards myself. Your safety isn’t negotiable, Father. Maxwell’s not the only one who needs you.”

Marcus nodded, offering a faint, reassuring smile. “You’re a good son, Alfred. Don’t worry—I’ll be back before you know it.”

Reluctantly, Alfred turned to leave for the gym but not before giving the guards outside strict instructions. “Follow him discreetly. Keep him safe—at any cost,” he ordered, his tone firm and unyielding.

---

The meeting location was unsettling. Marcus frowned as he approached the unfamiliar building on the city’s outskirts. Official council meetings were always held at Silver Crescent Tower, a symbol of their authority and legacy. This derelict venue was anything but official.

Pushing open the heavy wooden door, Marcus entered the dimly lit hall, his footsteps echoing ominously. Inside, only two figures waited: Alphonse and Lenox.

“Marcus,” Alphonse greeted, rising from his chair with a predatory smile. “How good of you to join us.”

Marcus’s eyes narrowed as he scanned the room. “Where are the others?”

Lenox leaned against the wall, smirking. “Oh, they’re otherwise occupied. This meeting is for select ears only.”

Every instinct Marcus had screamed for him to leave, but he forced himself to stand tall. “What’s the meaning of this?” he demanded, his voice steady.

Alphonse’s smile turned cold. “The Silver Crescent is on the brink of change, Marcus—a change that starts with you.”

The realization hit him like a thunderclap. This wasn’t a meeting. It was an ambush.

Before he could act, the door behind him slammed open. A hulking figure charged toward him, blade glinting in the dim light.

Marcus braced himself, but one of his guards intercepted the attacker. The knife plunged into the young man’s side with sickening force.

“Run!” the guard shouted, his voice strained with pain.

Marcus hesitated, torn between helping and escaping. The guard’s agonized cries spurred him into motion.

“Go!” the guard bellowed again, blood soaking his uniform as he struggled to hold off the assailant.

Realizing he was outmatched, Marcus turned and ran toward the exit. Behind him, the sounds of the guard’s screams and repeated stabs echoed in the hall.

Outside, the driver spotted Marcus sprinting toward the car, with two pursuers close behind. Drawing his firearm, the driver fired, killing one and forcing the other to retreat. Marcus dove into the vehicle, and they sped off into the night.

Meanwhile, Alfred’s session with Maxwell was short-lived. Even Maxwell noticed the tension radiating off his trainer.

“Something’s bothering you,” Maxwell said, wiping sweat from his brow after finishing a set of deadlifts.

Alfred sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s my father. He went to an emergency meeting called by Alphonse.”

Maxwell’s brow furrowed. “Alphonse? That doesn’t sound good.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of. It doesn’t feel right. I told one of the guards to shadow him, but…” Alfred trailed off, the unease in his chest growing heavier.

“But you wish you were there yourself,” Maxwell finished for him.

Before Alfred could respond, his phone buzzed. He grabbed it quickly, his heart sinking as he read the message:

“We were attacked. Bring backup now!”

“I have to go,” Alfred said, grabbing his bag.

“I’m coming with you,” Maxwell said without hesitation.

“No! You’re too important. If this is about destabilizing the clan, they’ll come for you next,” Alfred insisted.

“Then make sure your father is safe,” Maxwell replied, his voice grave.

When Alfred arrived at Marcus’s compound, the sight of armed guards stationed outside filled him with dread. Inside, he found Marcus leaning against a wall, pale and shaken but physically unhurt.

“Father!” Alfred called, rushing to his side.

“I’m fine,” Marcus said, though the tremor in his voice betrayed him.

“What happened?” Alfred demanded, his voice sharp with concern and anger.

“It was a trap,” Marcus admitted, his face grim. “Alphonse and Lenox—they’re making their move. Killing me would have weakened Maxwell’s position.”

Alfred’s fists clenched, his anger simmering dangerously close to the surface. “We’ll deal with them. But first, we need to get you somewhere safe.” He placed his father’s arm around his shoulder to steady him.

“They won’t stop,” Marcus murmured. “Not until they get what they want.”

“Then we won’t stop either,” Alfred replied, his voice cold with resolve.

---

That night, Alfred stood by the window, staring into the darkness. His father’s narrow escape was a stark reminder of how ruthless their enemies were. The clan was on the brink of war, and Alphonse had drawn first blood.

But as Alfred clenched his fists, one thought burned brightly in his mind: Alphonse and Lenox might think they held the upper hand, but they had no idea what was coming for them.